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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450163">Find Me in the Garden</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/erriikaa/pseuds/erriikaa'>erriikaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Happy Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith is also a dumbass, Keith just wants to pamper his boyfriend, Lance deserves the love, M/M, he tries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:42:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/erriikaa/pseuds/erriikaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith has been acting weird. Like, <em>really</em> weird. He's keeping secrets from Lance, and Lance will be damned if he doesn't get to the bottom of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Find Me in the Garden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=QatoQueen">QatoQueen</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a gift for @/qatoqueen on Instagram from Rae's VDay exchange! I'm your secret admirer, Qato! Happy Valentine's Day, and I hope you like the story &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Okay, that’s it. Lance can’t ignore it any longer.</p>
<p>Kieth is acting weird. Like, <em>really</em> weird.</p>
<p>And he doesn’t mean the <em>sorta-unusual-but-not-really</em> kind of weird. Like when Keith puts ketchup on his mac and cheese, or when he pours milk <em>before</em> his cereal, or even when he fucking <em>air dries</em> his entire body after he showers instead of using a goddamn towel like everyone else. </p>
<p>No. That would be his normal kind of weird. </p>
<p>But this? This is another thing entirely. </p>
<p>It’s been a week. One whole week of Keith acting suspicious. Waking up extra early. Staying out late. Always on edge. Sneaking around the house. <em>Dodging all his questions. </em></p>
<p>Something’s up. That much is obvious. Keith is hiding something, and Lance will be damned if he doesn’t figure out what. </p>
<p>He slams the car door shut with far more force than necessary, but he can’t be bothered to care. He’s annoyed, okay? Keith, his favorite person in the whole world, his partner in crime, his ride or die, the goddamn <em>love of his life</em>, is keeping secrets from him. </p>
<p>And that… hurts. </p>
<p>Lance trusts Keith with his whole heart. He really does. But the longer this carries on, the more doubt starts to trickle in. He needs to get to the bottom of this, and he needs to do it <em>now.</em></p>
<p>With a deep breath, he throws open the front door, intent on marching right up to Keith and demanding what’s up. But the moment he steps foot in the house, he stops dead in his tracks. </p>
<p>The warm scent of dough and spices immediately floods his senses. His brows pinch as the neglected door falls shut behind him, taking a deep breath in the warm air despite himself. It’s an unexpected scent to come home to, surely out of place but no less welcome.</p>
<p>Taking a curious step towards the source, he peers into the kitchen. He half expects to find Keith there, but the kitchen is empty save for a fresh plate of garlic knots sitting on the counter. He’s hesitant at the sight— <em>where the hell did those come from?</em>— but he’s never been one to resist freshly baked garlic knots. </p>
<p>They’re still warm when he plops one in his mouth, tasting just like the ones his mamá makes. He lets out a pleased hum as it lingers in his mouth, chewing slowly to savor every last bite. The pleasant haze doesn’t clear from his mind until he swallows the last of it down, a million questions taking its place. </p>
<p>Who made these? Did Hunk come over? Is he still here? Where did he go? Why would he come make garlic knots then disappear?</p>
<p>Not that Lance is <em>complaining</em>, of course. Garlic knots are a gift from heaven and he will gladly eat them at any time of day, in any situation, random or not. But that doesn’t stifle the curiosity that’s been growing ever since he walked through the door. </p>
<p>He drops his gaze to the plate and it’s only then that he notices a small piece of paper leaning up against it. It’s not hard to miss, though Lance isn’t surprised that he did. Not when garlic knots were at the forefront of his mind. He picks up the note, eyeing the chicken scratch handwriting that’s scribbled across it. </p>
<p>Keith’s handwriting. Lance would recognize it from a mile away. But reading it? </p>
<p>He squints his eyes as he lifts the paper to his face. It takes an extra minute to decipher it, but eventually he figures it out. </p>
<p>
  <em>I hope I made them to your taste, but nothing could ever taste as fine as you. Come find me in the garden. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>(P.S. You won’t get food poisoning. Hunk helped me make them.)</em>
</p>
<p>Lance laughs, amusement and disbelief coloring his features as he reads the note over again. </p>
<p>So this is what he’s been up to, huh? </p>
<p>Shaking his head, he stashes the note in his pocket, his chest bubbling with mirth at the thought of Hunk bossing around a disheveled Keith in their kitchen, flour on his face and spices in his hair while he desperately tries not to burn anything. The smile doesn’t leave his face even as his laughter dies down. </p>
<p>Keith can’t cook for shit, but he did today, and he did it solely for <em>Lance</em>, even going so far as to recruit Hunk just to surprise him with his favorite food. Something flutters in his chest as he swipes another garlic knot from the counter, hiding his smile with it as he promptly heads out the door. </p>
<p>Despite what the note says, he doesn’t find Keith in the gardens. He wanders around every path, circles the whole thing twice, but there isn’t a single mullet to be found. Nothing but rows of beautiful blooming flowers, just as he’d left it. </p>
<p>It’s a pristine garden, if he does say so himself, an entire spectrum of vibrant colors, all perfectly placed in a gorgeous display without a single weed in sight. Lance is proud of his garden, satisfied that he has something beautiful to show for all his hard work, but he didn’t come here to admire it. No, he came here in search of a certain mulletted boyfriend who clearly <em>isn’t here. </em></p>
<p>A huff escapes his lips as he makes his way to the back garden gate. This impromptu game of hide-n-seek just got a whole lot harder. He mentally runs through a list of locations Keith may have run off to, but he’s stopped in his tracks when he reaches the gate, a large bouquet of flowers sitting innocently in front it and blocking his path. </p>
<p>With a pinch in his brow, he crouches down to inspect the flowers, fingers grazing the delicate petals of their own accord. They’re positively <em>gorgeous</em>, a stunning display of shapes and colors packed carefully in a glass vase. But more importantly, they aren’t from his garden. His flowers would make a stunning bouquet, no doubt, but he would’ve had to murder whoever went picking through his garden unauthorized, no matter how sweet their intentions were. </p>
<p>Of course, Keith would’ve known that. </p>
<p>A soft smile curls his lips as he leans forward, burying his nose in the petals, elated as a dozen familiar scents surround him at once. The vase is heavy when he finally picks it up, and really, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. It’s <em>massive</em>. Practically four times the size of a typical bouquet. </p>
<p>With far more effort than he cares to admit, he heaves it into his arms, careful not to damage the flowers or crumple the sparkling blue ribbon tied around the center. A few drops of water escape over the edge, sprinkling Lance’s sleeve in the process, but he pays them no mind, far too invested in the note that hangs off the side of the vase. </p>
<p>
  <em>The flowers you grow are beautiful, but none ever look as stunning as you. Look for me in the shop. </em>
</p>
<p>Same small piece of paper. Same chicken scratch handwriting. </p>
<p>Lance smiles, something unbidden and entirely too fond for his own good. He sucks in a deep breath, a futile attempt to settle the swarm of butterflies in his chest to a mere flutter as he walks over to their farm shop on eager feet. </p>
<p>The shop should be locked today, being closed for their day off, but Lance finds no trouble with the door, pulling it open easily as he peeks inside. He scans the room, a quick once over of the familiar shelves and merchandise. For as small a place it is, their quaint little shop is often packed this time of year, everyone in town— hell, everyone in the entire <em>state</em>— bustling about, yearning for a taste of fresh picked fruits and Hunk’s delicious baked goods. </p>
<p>But this time he’s not surprised to find that there’s not a single head in sight, not even one with a certain signature mullet. </p>
<p>A soft laugh escapes his lips as he shakes his head and lets the door fall shut behind him. He barely takes one step inside before something out of place catches his eye. Planted firmly in the center of the otherwise empty counter sits a large basket, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a bow, a dozen treats stuffed inside. </p>
<p>Lance’s fingers twitch as he scurries over, eagerly peering at all the goods trapped within. Cake pops, cookies, coffee mugs and bags of beans, cinnamon sticks, chocolate shavings, whipped cream, and a mountain of various syrups and sweeteners, all of Lance’s favorite flavors piled together. </p>
<p>His mouth immediately waters at the sight, and he absently wonders if all these food gifts are Keith’s subtle way of trying to stuff him up and toss him in the oven. He should probably be ashamed to admit that he wouldn’t even mind if that were the case. It’d be one hell of a delicious death, that’s for sure. </p>
<p>But all at once the watering in his mouth moves to his eyes when he catches a glimpse of the labels plastered across all the goods. He sucks in a breath as the familiar name flutters across his mind. </p>
<p>
  <em>Caffeccino Varadero. </em>
</p>
<p>His head drops of its own accord, falling to rest against the basket handle with a soft thump as a wave of nostalgia crashes over him. If he closes his eyes, he can see it right there in front of him. The worn, wooden tables. The vintage pictures covering the walls. The bright-eyed staff, the artistically vibrant menus, and the best cup of coffee in all of Cuba. He can hear the children running around with fresh cookies in hand. He can see the ocean just outside the large open windows. He can smell the freshly brewed coffee and delicious baked goods, still hot from the oven. </p>
<p>It’s been years since he’s been back there, but all at once, it feels like he never left.</p>
<p>He breathes a soft sigh as his eyes finally open, eyeing the basket with a bittersweet sense of longing. A small paper tag catches in his hair as he pulls his head away. With gentle fingers, he pulls it from where it’s tied around the ribbon, a small scrap of paper just like the others. </p>
<p>
  <em>No amount of coffee beans could ever replace your home, just as nothing could ever replace the home I’ve found in you. </em>
</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>Keith.”</em> The words come rushing out in a sudden breath, though he knows no one is around to hear them. And it’s that fact that has a new sense of urgency rushing through his veins. The fact that he <em>wants</em> Keith to hear him. <em>Needs</em> him to. And he needs it <em>now.</em></p>
<p>His eyes quickly scan the rest of the note, searching for the next clue. </p>
<p>
  <em>Come hang out with me and Kaltenecker. </em>
</p>
<p>He’s so thrown off by the sudden mood change, he nearly drops the vase of flowers still cradled in his arms. He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, unable to keep it down because <em>god</em>, he really brought <em>Kaltenecker</em> into this? The image of Keith wrestling a big sparkly bow on top of the cow’s head comes flashing unbidden across his mind, and another fit of laughter sputters out of him. </p>
<p>He’s really going all out with this, huh?</p>
<p>Lance throws one last fleeting smile at the note before stashing it in his pocket with the others. Tucking the vase securely under his arm and grabbing the basket in the other, he waddles back to the shop entrance, pushing his way out ass first with a new sense of urgency. </p>
<p>It takes him a minute longer than usual to reach the cow fields with the extra weight he’s carrying. He’s nearly broken a sweat in the late summer sun as he shuffles across the grass in search of his favorite black-and-white spotted girl, but he can’t bring himself to care. Sweaty or not, he needs to find Keith <em>now </em>before his heart melts right out his damn chest. </p>
<p>He spots Kaltenecker long before he reaches the gate, her large frame lazing around by the entrance just like she always is. Another cow lays comfortably by her side, though Lance can’t tell which one from the distance. </p>
<p>It isn’t until he’s practically reached the gate that he notices there’s something off about the other cow. It hasn’t moved an inch since Lance laid eyes on it, not even the slightest shift of its head or flick of its tail. And now that he’s closer, he can see the distinct differences between its coat and Kaltenecker’s. The coloring looks far too unnatural and it lacks the healthy shine that Kaltenecker’s gives in the sunlight. </p>
<p>A pinch of his brow wrinkles his forehead, one that’s three parts confused and two parts worried. Is the cow sick? Dying? A new breed Keith snuck in without telling him? The concern doesn’t leave his face until he reaches the fence, leaning over the edge and squinting for a better look to find— oh.</p>
<p>He throws his head back and laughs, completely unbidden and full of exasperation. He shakes his head as he passes through the gate, muttering to himself through remnants of laughter. “Keith, you really are an enigma.”</p>
<p>A giant stuffed cow leans casually against Kaltenecker’s side, massive in all it’s fuzzy glory, nearly the same size as Kaltenecker herself. Lance crouches in front of it, temporarily abandoning his other gifts to run a hand over the soft plush.</p>
<p>After a moment, he turns to give Kaltenecker some love, never forgetting his favorite girl. His smile dims to something less amused and infinitely more fond as she lifts her head at his presence. She sniffs his hand twice, gives a quick lick, then promptly turns back to her nap, completely unbothered by the giant plushie half-draped over her back. </p>
<p>Lance snorts a laugh as he grabs for it, smile instantly falling as he fights against the resistance because <em>holy shit</em>, is it even possible for a stuffed animal to be this <em>heavy?</em> His self confidence plummets to zero by the time he wrangles it upright. The material is impossibly soft in his hands, and he absolutely does not fight the urge to dive forward, squeezing it firmly around the middle and burying his face into the fuzzy warmth. He lets himself relax there for just a minute, slumped against the sturdy stuffed animal before leaning back, admiring it with the inkling of amusement brewing in his chest. </p>
<p>Normal boyfriends buy their significant other large teddy bears with heart shaped pillows in their paws. But not Keith. No, he goes right for the biggest, most awkward stuffed animal you could get, unfathomably plump, equipped with a plastic bell, hindering little utters, and a gaudy pink bow on its tail. </p>
<p>Lance loves it. </p>
<p>With a dopey smile and eager fingers, he leans forward and snacthes the note hanging from the bow around its neck. It’s large and pink, littered with sparkly white polka dots around the edges, identical to the one Lance tied around Kaltenecker’s neck when she was born. He shakes his head as he drops his eyes to the note. Seriously, how could this get any cuter?</p>
<p>
  <em>Giant stuffed animals may be great for cuddling, but nothing could ever be as comfortable as you. Meet me by the baby goats. </em>
</p>
<p>Oh. <em>That’s</em> how. </p>
<p>Lance thought bringing Kaltenecker into this was cute enough, but the <em>baby goats?</em> Keith sure as hell knows all the ways to melt Lance’s heart and he really came at it today with guns blazing. </p>
<p>He can’t really say he’s upset about it, though. </p>
<p>Wasting no more time, he pushes himself to his feet, needing nothing else in the world but to <em>find Keith already.</em> With far more effort than he’d like to admit, he heaves the plushie into his arms, making a mental note to step up his workout routine. It takes a great deal more effort to shove it under one arm, squeezing it against his side as he struggles to grip it around its excessively large girth. He wrestles the vase and coffee basket into his other arm with no less effort. But the moment he’s got everything securely loaded, looking like the glorified pack mule he is, he sets off to find his boyfriend, waddling with a careful but fierce determination.</p>
<p>He hears Keith before he sees him. A chorus of a dozen bleating goats and one very disgruntled boyfriend that sounds indistinguishably like <em>home.</em> The fluttering in his chest picks up to a swarm as the sound grows closer, a smile spreading its way across his lips long before he reaches the gate. </p>
<p>Keith doesn’t see him when he gets there, back turned and far too— ah— <em>preoccupied</em> to notice. Lance immediately stifles a laugh at the scene before him, hand over his mouth and shoulders silently shaking as he watches Keith stumble gracelessly around the pen, large hands desperately trying to corral the baby goats that clearly don’t want to be caught. He’s never been a large person, per se, all slim-waisted, sharp features, and toned muscles that speak more with their skills than their size. But next to the baby goats, he looks utterly ridiculous. A giant fumbling fool stomping around the pen and desperately trying not to trip over the little animals running at his feet.</p>
<p>It’s far too adorable for his own good. </p>
<p>After several minutes of failed attempts, Keith manages to catch one of the goats, wrestling it carefully into his arms. But just as he grabs it, he throws his momentum too far forward, and with the dozen goats under his feet, he has nowhere to step to catch himself. In a dramatic flail of limbs, Keith goes down, twisting and contorting his body in the most ridiculous ways to avoid crushing any goats as he falls. </p>
<p>It’s then that Lance loses his composure, laughter fully bursting free, wholly uncontained as Keith’s ass hits the ground <em>hard.</em> Keith snaps his head to the sound, body tensing as a flood of confusion, surprise, and panic wash over his face all at once. </p>
<p>“Lance!” He freezes on the ground, cradling the captured goat to his chest as if he could hide behind it. “You’re back early.”</p>
<p>“Early?” Lance snorts. “Pidge held me hostage at a coffee shop for <em>three hours,</em> Keith. This is <em>late</em>.” His amused smile turns fond as he shuffles through the gate, shrugging the pile of gifts in his arms as he goes. “Although, now I understand <em>why</em>.” His voice is soft, though laced with mirth as he carefully lowers the gifts to the ground, reaching out a hand with a gleam in his eye. “I <em>guess</em> it was all worth the wait.”</p>
<p>Keith takes Lance’s hand as he pulls him to his feet. A dust of pink colors his cheeks as he eyes the gifts at Lance’s feet, scratching a hand at the back of his neck. “Well, still— I was kinda hoping it would take you a little longer to get here.”</p>
<p>“I can see that.” He laughs as he steps into Keith’s space, plucking a stray piece of hay from his hair. There are a dozen more where that came from, clumps of straw clinging to his shirt and littering his hair. A patch of flour turns half his bangs white, and streaks of mud color his arms and cheeks. He’s, objectively, a mess, though he still has the audacity to be endearing about it. “Having some trouble with this last one?”</p>
<p>Keith huffs a dry laugh. “You could say that.” Uncertainty colors his features as he glances around the pen. “I’ll admit, this went a lot smoother in my head.”</p>
<p>Lance’s smile curls wider as he shakes his head, cupping Keith’s jaw and placing a kiss on his nose. “Smooth or not, I think it’s perfect.”</p>
<p>His shoulders sag as he releases a defeated breath. “I was <em>trying</em> to get the goats in a line, but I’ve been out here for twenty minutes and they won’t stop running away from me!” He crosses his arms over his chest with an adorable grumble that makes something fond and familiar flutter in Lance’s chest. “Kaltenecker was a million times more cooperative.”</p>
<p>“She’s a lazy cow, Keith. Of course she was more cooperative than a dozen hyperactive baby goats.” He bends down, scratching one behind the ear before it scurries away, bleating with the rest of them. “What were you trying to line them up for anyway?”</p>
<p>Keith hesitates, shifting from foot to foot before answering. “I was... trying to get them to... spell something?” </p>
<p>Lance raises a brow, another question halfway off his tongue, but he stops himself. Because huh, y’know what? Now that he’s looking at them, each of the goats has a sheet of paper hanging loosely around their neck, a bold black letter printed clearly on the front. He studies them all, scanning the letters and trying to sort out what they spell, but it's impossible to guess with them all running about. </p>
<p>“What were you trying to spell?”</p>
<p>“Uh, well—” Keith visibly swallows, averting his gaze as he reaches into his back pocket. “It’s actually a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.” With slow hands, he pulls out a small black box, staring pointedly at it as he fidgets. </p>
<p>All at once, Lance’s heart stutters to a stop in his chest, the breath sucked right out of his lungs because <em>holy shit, is this really happening?</em></p>
<p>Keith takes a deep breath, and when he lifts his gaze, it’s unwavering. A fire of determination burns behind his eyes, the same ones that Lance fell in love with so many years ago. “Lance, you mean everything to me. You’re my whole life. My whole world. My entire <em>universe.</em> I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you by my side.”</p>
<p>Heat pools behind Lance’s eyes, heart pounding in his ears as Keith sinks down to one knee, opening the box to reveal a golden ring with a small red stone sunk flat into the band. </p>
<p>“Lance, my love, my life. Will you marry me?”</p>
<p>Lance doesn’t breathe, doesn’t speak, doesn’t <em>think.</em> His body moves before his brain registers it, launching himself forward, colliding with Keith’s chest and sending them toppling backwards to the ground. He screams a loud <em>“YES!”</em> as they fall, though he can hardly hear it over the startled chorus of bleating goats. </p>
<p>His cheeks are wet and ache from his smile, but he buries them into Keith’s neck as he wraps his arms tightly around him. He can feel Keith’s heart pounding just as hard as his own where their chests press together. When he finally pulls away to look at him, his eyes are shining, smile just as bright as his own, positively giddy and undeniably <em>beautiful. </em></p>
<p><em>“Yes,”</em> he sobs in the space between them, enough so that Keith can undoubtedly hear him. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, you beautiful idiot.”</p>
<p>Keith laughs, and it sounds like heaven in his ears. </p>
<p><em>“Keith,</em>” he breathes. “We’re gonna be <em>husbands.”</em></p>
<p>He wraps his arms tighter around Lance’s back, breathless as he presses their foreheads together. “Yeah.” His smile is radiant, eyes shining with a promise of forever. “Yeah, we are.”</p>
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